11 Reasons Anza and Tehama Make Great Partners
by chowmein
Summary: When Anza had to go undercover, he generally went deep and it could be weeks before she'd really get to talk to him. AnzaTehama.
1. Hair

**Disclaimer: Don't own Fillmore! This is just for fun.**

**A/N: This is for 11 reasons community on live journal.**

One of the most distinguishing things about her, he decided, was her hair. Back in middle school, she had it styled in pigtails. She had just discovered the wonders of hair dye and went wild, dying her hair blue and her bangs pink.

Her mother had had a fit. Threatening to ground her if she didn't dye it back to her natural brown. Karen refused and she was grounded for two months until some kind of deal was struck (which, to this day, he still didn't know).

When they entered high school, the pigtails came to an end and the pink was gone leaving all blue, giving some teachers the impression that she was some kind of punk. Some would glare at her, as if she was up to no good. Others didn't even bat an eye, so long as she got good grades they didn't care.

She had a new style everyday. Curled, crimped, pulled back in elaborate twists with various hair accessories. Her hair was a work of art.

And dear god, he _must_ be bored if he was thinking about Tehama's _hair_ of all things. Still. He wondered if it was a soft as it looked. Surely not, he'd seen her doing her hair once. She had blow dried, straightened, and curled it to within an inch of its life.

Today, her hair was piled on top of her head in a sort of messy grace which some girls often tried to accomplish, but without much success. One pink hair stick in the middle of all of it. He blinked. There was no way one little stick could hold all that hair up, right? He squinted his eyes looking for any smaller pins in her hair, but couldn't find any. Her hair was too dark and thick.

Well, only one way to find out for sure. He reached forward and plucked the stick from her hair, only to have thick, soft tresses tumble down. Oh. Well two problems solved, it actually _was_ held up by that stick (impressive) and her hair was incredibly soft. Only now he had another one. Karen had turned around and glared at him.

"Joseph, do you know how long it took me to get it to stay like that?" she hissed.

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class Miss Tehama?" Mr. Quinn asked.

Karen stiffened and hastily turned back, "No, Mr. Quinn".

He gave her one final look before turning back to his lecture on the War of 1812 (he was one of the teachers who glared).

She sighed and settled back in her seat ignoring the looks some of her fellow classmates gave her.

The bell rang and as she was putting her notebook in her backpack, a hand holding a pink hair stick came into view. She looked up and saw Anza giving her a rueful smile.

She huffed and took the stick and with a few twists of her wrists her hair was back in its former style. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother saying anything.

"Honestly" she muttered rolling her eyes.

Knowing he was forgiven, his eyes widened innocently, "It fell out all by itself"

"You're an ass" she said as she walked out of the classroom, "Honestly, if you want to play with hair, get a Barbie Doll" she called over her shoulder, smiling playfully.

He grinned as he followed her out, "But yours is so much prettier".


	2. Weak in the Knees

He's watching her. When they're in the lab and she's going over evidence. He leans against the table a few feet away from her as she looks at a slide under the microscope.

It's something she's never quite gotten used to since they've been partners. He'll cant his head _just so. _And look. He does much more watching than is necessary or reasonable.

A weaker person would have cracked. As it is, she feels slightly unnerved (something she's only admitted to Ingrid under sworn secrecy) and, if she allows herself to _really_ think about it, excitement.

Tehama, however, does _not_ think about such things, nor the feelings that bubble up inside her. If she happens to feel weak in the knees, well, that's because she's been standing all day. Nothing more, nothing less.

She sucks in a deep breath and looks at him. A shiver runs down her spine and she smiles. "The hairs match. Diego Sanchez is the smuggler".

He's pleased, she can see it in his eyes. And something else. Pride. Pride that _his_ partner was able to crack the case they'd been working so hard on and it takes her breath away.

She stands frozen as he leans into her, looking at her with _those_ eyes, and tugs on her hair affectionately, "Good job. I'll go tell Vallejo" and with that he's gone. She spends the next five minutes trying to remember to breathe.


	3. Happy Birthday

**36. Word/Phrase (Happy Birthday).**

**----**

Tehama doesn't celebrate birthdays. Not even her own (a fact that O'Farrell was horrified to learn). There is no particular reason, no bad experience or party gone wrong. She just finds it all frivolous. And Tehama is anything but frivolous.

Everybody seems to be fine with it, but as the year draws to a close and the day of her birth looms near (December 21), hints will be dropped and plans for the Christmas party will be discussed. Thoroughly. And often. And oh, if Tehama wants, they can have a joint celebration; nothing big. Just the five of them (and Vallejo if he's not too busy with paperwork).

This year, Danny finally cracks and demands to know why the forensics specialist refuses to partake in birthday celebrations ("It's blasphemous!"). She cattily remarks, "It's one year closer to death". Ingrid laughs and the young photographer pouts for the rest of the day.

He doesn't bother saying anything (he knows better), but when the day finally arrives he can't help but get a little something. When she comes in (late, so she doesn't have to hear the "Happy Birthdays"), on her desk is a Hershey's Milk Chocolate Bar wrapped in a red bow.

She pauses and stares at the candy bar, then rolls her eyes and shakes her head. But he can see a small smile tugging at her lips and grins. She looks over at him with an annoyed but mostly amused expression.

_Happy Birthday_, he mouths silently before going back to work.


	4. Pout

**50. frown/pout**

"You're pouting"

"… Am not"

"Are too"

"Am not!"

Karen Tehama looked up from her work and glanced at her partner, trying to keep from grinning. "Yes, you are. You're lower lip is protruding. Clearly a pout".

Anza immediately pulled his lip back. Only for it to stick back out a second later. His whole form was rigid, tense and he radiated a sullenness; from his crossed arms, hunched body leaning against the table and…. The Pout.

She bit her lip, to show any outward amusement would only worsen his mood; but she couldn't help it. He looked so cute!

"I'm sure Vallejo didn't mean anything by it." She said, leaning back down at the set of fingerprints. One lifted from a scene of a case Fillmore and Ingrid were working on, the other on a card from a perp.

His only response was a snort.

She frowned, going back to the first set of prints. An island around the outer most whorl… Interesting.

Five minutes later, and a huff of air sounding from somewhere in her left vicinity reminded her that she wasn't alone. "You're getting tired of bodyguard work anyway, you said so yourself" she said still absorbed in her work.

"Yeah.. Well, he didn't have to replace me this soon. And with Meyers? Really? Guy couldn't find his way out of a wet cardboard box." Anza responded, irritated. "You know how long it took me to get the Editor to trust me and relax? And now, to be replaced by Meyers… Makes it look like I'm incompetent at doing a job I've been doing since middle school!"

She stopped what she was doing, standing straight up and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her back hurt and her eyes were beginning to burn. She was pretty sure the fingerprints weren't a match and wanted to double check a few more things before calling Fillmore, but hearing the anger and underneath that, bitter resentment, in her partner's voice gave her pause.

She walked over to him, he wouldn't look at her. Pout in full force. She blew pink fringe out of her eyes and leaned against the countertop next to him, poking him in the ribs.

"Joseph, you know that's not true. Andy Miles specifically requested you to act as bodyguard until he felt positive that the bully would leave him alone. He has and now he can relax enough that he only needs someone to check on him a couple days a week. It only makes sense that you'd be pulled in favor of something more pressing" Karen said.

He was quiet, mulling over what she'd said. She could tell she'd gotten through to him though; his posture was already relaxing, unwinding. She vaguely noticed that he was a full head taller than her now. When had that happened? It seemed like not too long ago, they'd been the same height.

"Still… Meyers?"

"Better than Danny"

He sighed, "You're right. I'm letting this get to me. It's just this case has lasted so much longer than anyone expected it to". He ran a hand over his face and smiled, "Ever the rational one, Kare" he nudged her with his shoulder affectionately.

She grinned at him, "One of us has to be", and nudged him back. "Besides", she said walking back to her work, "I couldn't let you pout the rest of the day" she said teasingly.

"I was not pouting!"


	5. Anxiety

15. anxiety/apprehension

Karen walked to her locker. School had ended two hours ago, and she had just finished the last of her paperwork on her latest case of a hall pass counterfeit. Luckily, there was no lab work for her today, so Vallejo had let her leave early. She was grateful, as she'd had a migraine beginning to form. She pulled her clip from her hair and massaged her scalp; she'd been feeling anxious all week. Today, in particular, had just sucked.

She glanced at her watch as she entered in her combination. She needed to get her French book to study tonight. Rumor was going around that Mr. Fredericks was going to give a pop quiz on verb tenses and she wanted to be prepared. She opened the locker and froze. Sitting on her books was a post-it yellow origami crane. She glanced around her. No one, the hallway was deserted. She shifted her book bag to her other shoulder and grabbed the crane, there was writing on it. Writing she recognized. Her heat skipped a beat. It was from Joseph. She could feel the tension slowly leaving her body. Finally! She hadn't heard a peep from him for two weeks; she'd been close to throttling Vallejo and forcing him to let her know how Joseph was doing on his case.

Joseph had opted to take half his classes as independent study this year, a new program X had instituted for high school students to help them get used to a college environment. He only had to meet with his teachers once a week to hand in homework and go over anything he had any questions on or take a test. As such, she'd generally only see him after hours or outside of school.

The main reason he'd chosen to do this, was so people wouldn't recognize him. By not having to go to classes regularly like most students, he could infiltrate gangs and any secret organizations that weren't abiding by X's school rules. He was given the freedom to come and go about the school grounds as he pleased and most people wouldn't recognize him as a member of the safety patrol.

Sometimes, she envied Ingrid. She got to see her partner on a regular basis and when there was undercover work to be done, it was usually together and only lasted a few days at most. When Anza had to go undercover, he generally went deep and it could be weeks before she'd really get to talk to him. During those times, when she'd pass him in the hall, she would have to keep her face blank and walk right past him, as if he were just another face in the crowd. To act familiar with him at all could potentially ruin a case.

As for herself, she was generally never allowed to go undercover, her work in forensics made her too valuable to allow her to leave for too long. They'd added three other CSIs during their high school years and they were good, of course, but she'd been doing this long enough to make her too good and efficient to leave for an undercover bit. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts; strands of pink obscuring her vision. She pushed her hair back and started to open the post-it when she felt a hand clap down roughly on her shoulder. "Well, well, well. If it isn't a member of the safety patrol, little late to be at school still, no?"

Her jaw clenched; she didn't have time for this. She turned around, her hand slipping into her book bag slowly. She looked at the boy in front of her, Blake Huntley, president of the International Club, and rumored to be second in command of the Lilac Society, a secret club that was rumored to be fixing student elections to slowly take over the Student Council.

She glanced behind him, two thuggish looking boys stood behind him. The one to his left, she recognized as Luke Fairborne, member of the boy's lacrosse team. With fluffy blond hair and light green eyes, he was definitely a high school heartthrob. The boy on his right hand side seemed to be his opposite, looks-wise. Tall and lanky, longish hair falling into his dark eyes. Eyes which were focused on her, she noticed with a start.

She was pulled from her thoughts as she realized that Blake was speaking to her. "… Such a pretty girl like you has no one to keep her company". He said smiling down at her flirtatiously.

She smiled back at him, "I seem to manage" she replied, nonchalantly re-adjusting her bag, her hand wrapping around a small cylinder she'd gotten from Ingrid. She tensed and waited.

"How are you doing today, Miss Tehama? Are you ready for tomorrow's quiz?" he asked, he had French same period as her. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, "I guess, though I'd like to study up a bit. Never really know what Mr. Fredericks will throw at you, y'know?"

It continued on like that for what seemed like ages. Polite talk about nothing important, shooting the breeze like two friends who hadn't seen each other in a while. She wanted to scream. Something was going on, she was sure of it. He was purposely keeping her here, though she didn't know why.

Blake glanced at his watch. Seemingly satisfied with the time, he turned to his companions as if suddenly remembering they were there. "Oh, how rude of me; I haven't introduced you to our newest transfer. He's from Poly High School. Karen Tehama, meet Ryan Vega, Ryan's new, but learning the ropes quickly. Ryan, this is Karen Tehama, a member of X's Safety Patrol: a brilliant, forensics expert who still refuses to accept a date from me." Blake said cheerfully. "And of course, you know Luke Fairborne here from Middle School" he added as an afterthought.

She smiled in greeting at Ryan, who inclined his head at her politely, saying nothing. Waving slightly to Luke, who ignored her, she then turned back to Blake, and sighed dramatically, "You know I don't date heartbreakers, and with all the attention you get, I don't think I could handle it. I'm the jealous type you know."

They shared a laugh. The two thugs remained motionless. "Well, I should probably be going now" Karen said, quickly turning around, grabbing some books and shoving the crane into her jacket pocket before shutting her locker and turning around. "Gotta study" she said, starting to edge away from the group of boys before her.

"Well, I simply can't allow a lovely thing such as you to walk home alone." Blake said gallantly.

"Oh, no. Really, it's okay" she smiled at him, turning to walk away before Blake grabbed her arm firmly. "I simply must insist" he said, looking at her intently.

She swallowed, feeling anxiety flood through her. "Well, since you insist". She forced a smile on her face.

Blake brightened. "Great! I'd better get going, myself. Ryan will escort you", he said taking Karen's hand and kissing it. "We wouldn't want anything … Nefarious to happen to you on your way home" He murmured to her, before turning away.

"X tends to have some shady people hanging about this time of day" he called out over his shoulder, Luke following. She rolled her eyes, now he was just trying to bait her. Ryan turned to her, taking her book and bag. "Let's go" he said, placing a hand on her shoulder guiding her to the exit.

He walked her to a car, opening the passenger door and allowing her to get in before closing it. She watched him walk around to the driver's side, placing her things in the backseat then getting in the car himself. She briefly thought about trying to make a grab for her bag, before dismissing it. She was fairly certain he wouldn't try anything. Blake was a lot of things, but a skeezy bastard wasn't one of them. He'd never lay a finger on a girl without permission and as such wouldn't allow any of his lackeys to do so either. Besides, she thought, as he started the car and put it in reverse; she wouldn't be able to get to her bag before him anyway.

They drove past the school gates, and it was only as he made a left down Claussen that she realized he hadn't asked for directions. She looked hard at him, but his focus was on the road. "You know where I live". It wasn't a question.

He didn't bother saying anything in response. She took that as a yes and frowned. She didn't like people knowing where she lived. It was a privacy thing. Vallejo knew because he was commissioner and had access to everyone's files, Fillmore and Ingrid had only found out last month when she was out for a week with strep and dropped off her homework. Joseph was the only one of her friends who had been in her house for longer than ten minutes. Which reminded her of the note, she really wanted to read it but it looked like she'd have to wait a little longer. Ah, well.

She tried not to fidget too much, first looking out the window, then went to change the station that was currently playing (blues. Bonnie Raitt, but she wasn't quite sure. She'd ask Joseph later), before jerking her hand back. She finally gave up trying to relax and stared at her hands in her lap. Her right, middle finger had a chip in the polish.

"You don't strike me as a pink kind of person" Ryan said abruptly. She looked over at him blankly. He glanced at her, and then motioned to his head. "Your hair", he clarified. "You don't really seem like a girly girl, pinky type person"

She twirled a section of bubblegum pink hair. "I'm not really." She said "I felt like a change from blue though. Too much maintenance"

He stopped at a light and looked over at her. "How do you mean?"

"My hair's naturally dark, so after a few washes it'll start turning green" she explained, "And my friend suggested this color, she thought it would be amusing. Or something."

"'Or something'". He echoed. There was something in his voice that she couldn't place, amusement? "It's very Audrey Kitching" he said knowingly.

She laughed. "What do you know about Audrey Kitching?"

"She's a scene queen with pink hair"

She chuckled and saw out of the corner of her eyes, that he was grinning slightly and fully relaxed.

"You definitely stand out", he continued.

"Don't really need to blend in", she commented wondering where the conversation was going.

No where apparently. He hadn't said anything else after that and neither did she. Three minutes later he pulled to a stop by the curb in front of her house. He turned off the car, grabbed her things and walked around to her side and opened the door. She got out and he walked her up the steps to the door, handing her things back to her.

"Thank you, lackey" she said smilingly, turning from him and pulling out her keys. She felt a tug on her hair and turned to him; he looked at her for a moment, and then shoved his hands in his pockets. "You should keep your mace on you" he said before walking down the driveway to his car.

She watched him get in the car, and then finally leave. She let out a sigh of relief, slipping past the door, locking it and wandered into the kitchen where her father was preparing dinner. "Good day at school?"

She nodded, taking a seat at the bar style island watching him chop tomatoes, lettuce, and cucumbers. She pulled the crane out of pocket and began opening it.

"Was that Joseph who dropped you off?" he asked. "Did you want to invite him for dinner?"

"Yeah", she said distracted, "He couldn't stay; he had some things to take care of". Note opened, she read the handful of words on the paper.

Not even a sentence, really. _Pink? Surprising. Suits you though._ She broke out into a grin.

"That's too bad. Your mother's running late, traffic. Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. Salad and chicken tamales, sound good?"

"Sounds great" she said pulling out her books and folders, getting ready to start her homework and keep her dad company as he bustled about the kitchen. She tucked the note in her binder for safe keeping, smiling. Today had been a good day after all.


End file.
